All or Nothing
by theworldofhetalia
Summary: South Korea doesn't mean to dwell on the Korean War, but he couldn't help himself but wonder if things could have been different. Not like he blames America, but it's hard for America to live with him stuck in the past so much that it is damaging their relationship. Kimchiburger Based on an AMV and All or Nothing by O-Town.
**Inspiration is given to ObliviousBeet on Youtube for the creation of this fic from her AMV titled Kimchiburger – All or Nothing.**

 **The song, All or Nothing, is owned by O-Town and Hetalia is owned by Himaruya Hidekaz, while this North Korea is owned by Lo-Wah.**

X-X-X

 _1967_

 _New York City, United States_

They drove down a side street in America's new, black, 1967 convertible Chevy impala. It was mid spring, the trees were bright green, and the sun was shining down on the seemingly bright colored houses that were in reality no more brightly colored than average houses in any other neighborhood. Everything just seemed so alive with color and life from the miserable winter that seemingly drained everything of brilliance and warmth not so long ago.

That is, everything, except his boyfriend of 14 years.

South Korea had this distant look in his eyes most of the time, even when he was with America. No life was ever present, and the only emotion often showing was so vague the American could never tell. Sadness? Regret? Mourning? It could have been any of those, but he always knew what it was all about. It was always about _him_.

"You're doing it again, Yong-Soo." America held onto the Korean's hand as he drove, trying to snap him out of it.

The Korean pulled his hand out of the American's grasp and let it fall on his lap with dull thud, "Sorry." He brushed his hair back with one hand, leaving a distracted expression on his face.

They were silent for a few, fleeting moments before America confronted him, "Look, I understand that you and your brother had a very… close bond. But…"

"Alfred, I don't mean to dwell on the past. I really don't. It's just…" South Korea turned to look at him from his seat and paused trying to form what he wanted to say without making his love feel guilty.

But he didn't need to finish, as America finished for him in the bluntest way, "The possibilities? The 'what ifs'? Like how things could have been different if Russia and I didn't split you two? If we left you alone?"

It was South Korea's turn to grab the other's hand in his own, "Alfred, please understand. I don't blame you. Not one bit at all."

America pulled his hand away and placed it on the steering wheel, responding with doubt riddled in his words in a disheartened fashion, "Yeah. Of course you don't."

South Korea recoiled slightly at his tone and words in hurt. He wanted to say something, anything to convince the other that he was telling the truth; the words never came though. Instead, he turned away from the American in sadness and dejection, glancing out over the side of the car finding something to occupy his thoughts. Unfortunately, those thoughts eventually returned to his northern brother and their now tattered relationship filled with bitterness and hatred.

They drove on in silence, causing America to have his emotions fester in the deepest reaches of his heart and mind. He loved Yong-Soo. Truly. He would fight anything to protect the happy-go-lucky nation, do anything to make the other happy, even at the cost of his pride, and make him feel like he's the only thing he ever sees. He would equate their blooming relationship to a flower in spring or a flame. So timid at first, stepping around the topic with each other and making awkward yet cute conversations, and so fragile that a little bit of wind could blow it out. It grew, at least on his part, into a withstanding fire, one that would roar fiercely to life when he felt the need to protect, and even growing more vibrant, like the flowers in the shops, in so many shades and colors, ranging from best friend moments to intimate lovers. Lately, though, it has started to dull and dwindle, much to his dismay. He still loved him with as much fierceness as in the beginning with all his heart, but in his mind he now questioned if it was worth it trying to keep this flame going that was heading towards being a lost cause.

He vaguely heard South Korea speaking to him, not quite catching what the other said as he was lost in his thoughts and concentrating on driving, though since he knew these streets like the back of his hand he found it hard to believe that he was concentrating that hard.

"Alfred, pull over." America pulled the car over to a parking spot just off to the side.

Silence passed between the two until South Korea let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding in, "America, I mean it. I really don't blame you for what happened."

America raised then dropped his hand in defeat on the steering wheel, "So what does that distant look in your eyes mean? I know he's on your mind it's just… I thought in time you would realize-"

"What? That it's over? I know that, Alfred! Do you think I just choose to live this way? Having to dwell and think constantly about what could have been? Do you think I like that!? I don't! I don't mean for it to happen, but when your twin practically spits in your face and the bond that you both had built for thousands of years just falls apart like it was nothing you can't help but wonder what you did wrong!" He hadn't meant to raise his voice at the American, but he was frustrated beyond all reason.

"I understand, Yong-Soo! I'm just fucking sick of it! It's getting old and I feel like I'm sharing you with memories!" America yelled back, not knowing he just pushed the wrong button until the words left his mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I can't just drop it and move on like it never fucking happened! It may just be memories to you but it was _very_ real to me and I'm not just going to move on like that! Unlike you who seems to have no problems with hurting people and then talking to them the next day like nothing ever happened like with England!" He felt his anger rise in his throat like a foul bile. If he were thinking clearly at this point, he would have realized just how uncalled for that was.

"Excuse me!?" America reared on the other, facing him as much as the confines of his seat would allow him.

"You heard me! You go right on ahead and declared your independence leaving him broken, and then you talked to him the next morning as if you hadn't twisted a knife through him! And now you're trying to make me do the same thing!"

"I'm not trying to make you do anything! I'm just trying to express what I'm feeling, and right now I'm hurt and confused! Last year you told me you were going to get help and you would make sure that you wouldn't do this again, yet here you are still thinking about him and nothing has changed! If you are going to criticize me, then you need to look at yourself because you're not perfect either with making promises that you've never kept!"

"How fucking dare you!?" South Korea reached a hand over to grab the American.

The next few seconds went by in a blur for America. He grabbed South Korea's wrist to stop the advancing hand and reflexively used his other hand to smack the other, leaving a red print on the other's cheek. Both men stopped and mentally back peddling after realizing where this argument was leading to, causing them both to retract to their spots and avoid eye contact with the other and letting the awkward, guilt ridden atmosphere fester around them.

It wasn't until South Korea choked out, in an attempt to hide his crying, "I'm… I'm gonna take a walk. Go meet the others without me."

That choked sob pierced America like an icy dagger. He wanted to apologize, pull him into a hug and make their argument go away, he wanted to let the other know how sorry he was for pushing him like that and harming him. But he didn't. Like the words didn't want to come out or ran off on him, he sat their silently as the Korean got out of the car and walked down the street away from him. He was yelling in his mind for the other to not go, but he couldn't bring those words to life. He felt even guiltier for not saying anything, knowing that this could possibly be the beginning of the end for the both of them.

He pulled the car out and continued onward to their – his – destination, alone.

X-X-X

South Korea heard the car's engine rev before hearing it disappear somewhere behind him. He willed himself to not look back, knowing that if he did he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears anymore. He quickly walked down the street, wanting to just get away from where he was, away from the hurt. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he care.

He found himself minutes later not far from a hotel he knew his brother would be staying at for the upcoming meeting in the nearby meeting hall. Why he was here of all places he had not a clue. It seemed he wasn't able to get away from it all. Either it was constantly about his brother or his potentially waning love with America.

He heard a voice and saw two people exiting the hotel, and quickly hid behind some plants. North Korea was with Russia and it seemed the Russian was mildly concerned for the other, "Is everything okay, Hyung-Soo?"

North Korea laughed, the most genuine laugh South Korea ever heard since the civil war, making it all the more sickening, "Of course not! What makes you think otherwise?"

His heart dropped at the words. As if a knife was thrusted through his heart draining himself of any warmth, tears started to trickle down from his eyes.

 _He…he doesn't care about me… at all_.

At this point he didn't care, he stormed off as quickly as he could towards his and America's shared apartment not too far from where he was, attempting to keep his tears from falling more. As soon as he entered, he fell on to the bed. He gripped his pillow and cried into it, finally letting all the ache leave him.

X-X-X

America pulled into a parking spot about a block away from where he was to meet some of the other nations. He entered the bar and quickly found them, England and Japan cuddling on one side of the booth, France flirting with the waitress, and Canada sitting next to France and an empty seat. He quickly sat in the empty seat, not bothering to greet them.

"Amérique, I thought you ditched us with 'ow long it took you. Where is your lover?" France casually asked not immediately sensing something was off.

When America still hadn't spoken, the others exchanged worried looks before England tried, "Oi, America, is everything okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it… I need a stiff drink." America kept staring at the table, refusing to meet any one's eyes until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up to see Canada giving him a look that made him understand that he wasn't going to let that slide. "What is this all aboot?"

Under normal circumstances, he would have laughed at the other's accent, but he was in no way going to be able to laugh for a while. He recounted to them the argument that had occurred, wincing at the harsh glare from Japan when he told them about the physical part of the fight. He choked up at many parts, often when he felt guilt about what happened, and he needed some verbal encouragement from France to continue.

At the end, they were silent, not fully knowing what to say to the distraught American. Canada ordered a few shots for the group before speaking, "America… I do understand where you're coming from… I know it's difficult now but…"

America let a disheartened chuckle slide from his lips, furthering the others' worry, "I know. It's just… something, somewhere has got to give. I can't keep going like this… But I don't want to lose him either. I don't know what to do. I'd be lucky if we don't break up by the end of the night."

Japan quickly spoke, "That's not going to happen. I know he loves you. It may not seem like it but he does, just as much as you do."

England gripped the Japanese man's shoulder in slight comfort, "I'm inclined to agree. If he wasn't still in love with you he probably would have ended it sooner. And I highly doubt he hasn't heard you. I give that kid a lot more credit than you think I do."

America shook his head, "It's not about if he loves me anymore or not. It's... it's the fact that he's divided right now. I don't want him to feel like that anymore, but I don't want to force him to choose either, yet it seems that's what I have to do."

France kept a finger pressed to his temple, a mixture of unknown emotions highlighting his face, "It seems to me you two are coming to terms with reality at this point. You understand that you have to push him to make this choice, and he's perhaps starting to realize that he needs to let go. As to whether he is able to has yet to be seen. Like what you said before, is it worth it to keep a flame going even if it hurts you or let it go out? You know you want to keep it going, but you question if Yong-Soo wants to."

America was quiet for a few moments until he looked France in the eye, "Are you saying I should let him choose?"

France kept his eyes on the table, mulling over his words carefully before returning the gaze, "I think it would be for the best."

America remained quiet, occasionally having a shot for the remainder of the hour. He then stood up, seemingly having some sort of apprehensive determination in his eyes, "I need to call it a night."

He was about to pull out some cash to pay for his drinks when Canada handed the money back to him, "Don't worry aboot it. I'll pay for you."

America nodded his thanks and dismissed himself and left, taking the car back to his flat. He entered, fearing he would have to confront South Korea sooner than expected, but was met with silence. He bit his lip in worry that the Korean wasn't back by now, and searched the house to make sure if the other was really there or not. To his relief, he found the Korean had fallen asleep on the bed, holding onto the pillow like a life line. His eyes turned from relieved to guilt ridden once he saw the tear stains.

He sighed a heavy sigh, and got dressed for bed. He took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table, throwing the covers over himself and, before settling down, gently pulled some blankets over the Korean so he wouldn't catch a chill. He knew it would be best if he didn't try cuddling with the other, knowing how their relationship was at the tipping point.

He had almost forgotten how cold it felt being alone.

X-X-X

America woke later that night, having almost no luck falling asleep and, when he did, it was in short spurts. He sat up in bed, holding his aching head in one hand. He looked down to see that South Korea had turned to face him in his sleep, at least he assumed it was in his sleep. He didn't bother giving hope that maybe the Korean wanted to make up after all that happened.

He glared at the sheets in his fist, which slightly shook from trying to contain his emotions. He then, quite suddenly, stood up from bed, careful to not wake the other, and went to his writing desk. If speaking wasn't going to work then he would get it on paper.

X-X-X

Morning arrives with lazy rays of light filtering through the shades in the bedroom. Some dance across the Korean's face, making him groan in irritation before he tries to open his eyes. He remembered hearing America come back last night, and he knew the other came to bed, so it surprised him only in the slightest that he wasn't there when he woke up.

He lazily turned over, not feeling any motivation for getting up, and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion when he saw a piece of paper folded up and sitting on the bedside table. Sitting up he picks up the paper and unfolds it, noticing America's handwriting.

 _Dear Yong-Soo,_

 _I'm so, so sorry for what happened between us yesterday, and for hitting you. I only wanted what I thought was best for you, and I guess I made it look like it was all about me. I do understand that what I was asking was a lot more than what I thought it was. I shouldn't have made you so angry then, I should have known that this was still a raw wound for you._

 _But I want you to listen to what I have to say, I know you may have heard me before but please, for God's sake, listen again. I know he's been on your mind a lot, knowing that things could have been different, and that distant look in your eye doesn't help much either. I know you don't like that you are dwelling on the past, but it does hurt me when you promise that you will move on and you never do. I know you don't blame me for what happened, but I do. If I hadn't agreed to splitting you two that war would never have happened. It pains me every time because I'm the reason you are stuck like this._

 _I love you, Yong-Soo. I really, truly, do love you, hell, it's like the only thing I see is you sometimes. You know I would fight to the end of my days for you and do anything to make you happy. I've never fallen so hard for someone in my entire life as a nation. But how am I supposed to fight something that isn't physically there? How am I supposed to make you happy when I feel I am the one who is causing you to be miserable? Why do I feel like I'm having to share you with memories? Maybe that wasn't the best way of wording it. Perhaps I really should say that I don't like that you are stuck between a rock and a hard place. I know you're probably thinking that I'm being too hard on myself, that I'm taking all the blame when I might just be half the problem… But in the end I still hurt you, and I still kick myself for doing that._

 _I don't want to do this, but I know I have to. I really love you, but I feel like our love is like a flame that is slowing going out no matter how hard I try to make it stay alive. That our love has passed its prime and it's wilting. I don't want it to end. Really, I don't. But I know I can't keep living like this anymore. I want it all or nothing at all. I don't want to have to keep you stuck between two really impossible positions, but I don't want to lose you. I also don't want to force you to make a decision, but it seems I have to. So, I'm putting that flame in your hands. I'm letting you do what you want with it. If you want to end it, go ahead, I won't stop you. I'll still love you, but I understand if you just want our relationship to stay professional._

 _I'll be gone all day today. Give me a call to let me know what your decision is. I'm really sorry, I didn't want to do this to you. But… something, somewhere has got to give._

 _I'll still love you,_

 _Alfred F. Jones United States of America_

Tears streamed down his cheeks and onto the letter in an endless fashion. South Korea wiped his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears, but he couldn't hold back anymore. He felt torn. He knew he was hanging on to shreds of the past that wasn't going to change and his brother didn't care anymore, yet why was it so difficult to let go? He didn't want to lose America, he still loved him, yet he didn't know that America really felt that's what their love was turning into and that he was starting to lose hope.

He felt loved at the same time. Knowing that America was so deeply in love with him even through all the pain and misery made him swell. Yet it broke his heart that America was willing to give him up if it meant the other happiness. He was kicking himself for not realizing America was always there when things were falling apart between him and his twin, and that he was just trying to help mend his shattered heart. He knows America's love will never fully take the place of his twin, but if it was what he truly wanted, then he shouldn't have pushed him away for so long.

He laid there for hours letting the information sink in and battling with demons that he had been ignoring for the sake of his sanity and lack of wanting to face reality. Finally, he reached for the phone and called the only person he could think of to help.

"Hello, um, Taiwan? Er, I guess it's China now but… I really need to speak to you."

X-X-X

Later that evening, America was taking a stroll through Central Park, not wanting to go back to his flat fully knowing that South Korea was still deciding. He had yet to get any call, so he kept his distance. He kept mulling over what he wrote, wondering if maybe there was something else he should have added, but, in the end, he knew it was far too late now to worry about that.

He had left the number of a hotel his boss was staying at, just across the street from him, as there was no such thing, sadly according to America, as a phone you could carry with you. So he waited for that line to ring, mentally preparing himself for the possibility of becoming single.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, which came from his boss, and in a somewhat grave tone said, "Phone for you."

America felt himself tense. The moment of truth. He walked over to the hotel and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Al…" He heard South Korea's soft voice, "Please… please come home."

He heard the Korean's voice crack under the pressure of containing his crying.

"Please… I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I-" He started to lose control and started speaking incoherently.

America comforted him over the phone the best he could, keeping very quiet and mentally relieving himself that they would still be together, "Shh, shh. It's okay. Yong, it's okay. I'm here. Take a deep breath okay?"

While South Korea took a breath, America looked over at his boss to confirm that he was free to go and returned to the call, "Okay. Now, I'm coming home. Give me 10 minutes and I'll be there. Okay?"

"Okay…Al?" South Korea timidly asked.

"Yes?"

"… I love you." He whispered it so quietly America almost thought it was static.

"I love you, too, babe." He smirked over the phone when he heard a small, but pleasing laugh.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" He teased.

America, being slightly cheeky, questioned back, "Depends. How many times have I told you to stop eating spicy food?"

He could almost hear the roll of the other's eyes, "You know I'm not giving that up."

"And I'm not giving up on calling you babe. I'll see you soon." With that, he hung up, gave a farewell to his boss and made his way to his flat.

X-X-X

When he entered, he barely had enough time to register that a Korean had attached himself in one of the most bone crushing hugs he's ever had. After quickly catching himself before tipping over, he returned the hug, albite with less force since his Korean, though he didn't like to admit it, was more fragile than he looked. It took a moment to register that the Korean was still crying from the phone call, and he pulled him away so that he could wipe the tears away with his thumb.

A moment's hesitation in his words followed, "I…um, do you want to talk about your…"

Before America could finish, South Korea finished it for him, "I've already called Taiwan – er, China – and set up some schedules. I'm really this time trying to move on, I know she's willing to listen and help. And… I know now that my brother really doesn't care anymore. Don't ask how I know, at least not for tonight."

America gave a small smile, knowing that things were starting to turn up for them for once. He leaned in to kiss the Korean. It didn't get too heated, which was fine for the both of them. They rested their heads together, just enjoying the others' warmth.

"All or nothing, huh? How long it take to get that?" The Asian man chuckled lightly.

"You know writing letters is not my forte." He smirks playfully back, knowing they were getting back into routine.

 **And that is it. Curse you ObliviousBeet, this was so hard for me to do because of the angst! I nearly cried writing the letter! But I threw it upon myself to want to write something that was inspired by your awesome AMV.**

 **Please review and have a good day!**


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